Another Round In Dedust
by cheesyhead9 the toxic Cola
Summary: Just some CSGO fun. :D


The sun beat angrily on the sleazy plaster buildings, as if to punish the commoners below. It was another match in de_dust, specifically, Dust 2. The T side was ordered up in a messy line, a group of five, waiting for their Caller to bark orders so they could begin their assault. Bandanas and shades draped over their faces, with loaded pistols stuffed in their back pockets, ready to fire at the pull of a trigger. A knife with a simple wooden handle held loose from the belts of each man, though they were rarely necessary, as hand-to-hand combat occurred in only very specific conditions. The man closest to the centre of the group held a small pack of C4 tightly against his chest, a number pad affixed on it, a code being needed in order to activate the explosive.

"Alright guys, remember to not buy helmets this round, I think they all got either AWP's or SCAR-20's. Uh, Green and Yellow go _Cat,_ Red watch _Mid_ and count how many crossed _,_ and Purple and I will go _Long_ , any objections?" The game was silent except for the faint ticking of the clock, marking the remaining time until the match started. "Good. I know we'll reck these skrubs this round! Just remember how we practiced, and we'll be all set. Team for life!"

"Team for life!" the other team members unenthusiastically chanted.

Red, who was positioned on the far left of the line, held a bolt-action sniper rifle in his hands, a remarkable painting of a dragon spouting fire etched into the side. The infamous AWP, capable of killing any man with only one shot, regardless of whether or not they had body armor on. The rest of the team all held new kalashnikovs with shiny walnut stocks, powerful enough to put a hole through your head from a moderate distance, yet as cheap as an old Dell computer. The clock was still ticking, the seconds trickling away like a dying stream: " _...4...3...2...1…_ " The match had begun, and the bloodshed would soon follow.

The T side rushed into their respective positions, 4 players, wicked knives drawn, making their way towards A site, splitting between two paths. The path on the left would lead to a catwalk connected to the A site, with the other path taking a longer route. Red, however, stayed put, scoping in on the two bulky doors all the way on the other end of the map, steadily watching for if the other team would cross to B site.

"Red, how many crossed?" Magenta spoke up, waiting tentatively under a doorway leading to _Long_.

"Uh, nobody so far," Red apprehensively replied over the mic, concentrating on the tiny crack between the worn-down wooden doors.

"Wait, really? Dang, they must be stacking A site. Okay, Green, rotate B, got that? Hello, anybody there? Shoot, is he dead already?!" Gunshots rang in the distance, the kill feed displaying two unlucky individuals who had met their deaths in only the first 20 seconds of the round.

"Yep, I'm dead. There's a guy watching _Cat_ with a Negev, lit for 85." Green said, sighing into his mic.

"Dang it! Okay then, we can still do this. Let's rotate to B then. Red, you stay there and tell us if any cross. Deploy your decoy, too."

"Got it." Red took out a small cylinder the size of his palm, the shape similar to a flashbang, pulling out its pin. He threw it in the air, the decoy landing on the ground and rolling to the side.

 _BANG!..._

Although not everybody fell for the gimmick, the sound of an imitation of a 51mm round ripping through the air might have been enough to tell the CT's to take cover, but more rounds would soon follow.

 _BANG!...BANG!..._

The sound of the rounds were fired in quick succession, precisely timed to mimic the moment of silence when loading the next round into the barrel and ejecting the previous empty cartridge. More gunshots were heard in the distance, the CT's blindly returning fire at the sound of an AWP discharging. The sounds would continue for many more seconds, and then the decoy would detonate into a small explosion.

"Okay, Green, walk through _Tunnels_ to B. I'll follow up," Magenta commanded, tossing a flashbang behind them. The pair quickly turned away from the blinding light, shielding their eyes from the flash. They slowly made their way towards B site, attempting to make absolutely no sound. "We still got 1 minute and 20 seconds left, that's plenty of time. Anybody cross yet?"

"Two, no wait, _three_ crossed." Red said grimly, "It's like they can read our minds."

Magenta cursed. Two versus three was not a good idea, especially since the other team was probably armed with high-powered sniper rifles and heavy machine guns.

"Okay, don't rotate B. Let's just push _Long_. Red, go _Cat_ , and smoke off _Mid_."

"I know, smoke _Mid_ everyday." Red replied.

Red unscoped from his AWP, shouldering the rifle. Clipping a smoke grenade off his belt, he chucked it at the door, the fat metal can expanding with a violent _hissssssss,_ similar to an agitated snake. The can was suddenly replaced by a thick grey smoke, smothering it with wisps of vapor. He drew his Desert Eagle from his belt, hurrying to _Cat_. Meanwhile, Magenta and Purple were cautiously creeping up _Long_ , ready to shoot anything that moved.

"Dang, where are all the CT's? Smoke off _Cross_ , just to be safe." Purple obediently flicked off the pin of a smoke grenade and bounced it off the wall, the grenade expanding into a grey smoke, blocking off one of the passageways from CT spawn to A site. "Alright, let's move."

Magenta and Purple made their way towards the bombsite, using the smoke as a screen to hide their movements. Suddenly, someone started blindly spraying into the smoke, the bullets flying around erratically like popcorn kernels in a microwave. A stray bullet hit Magenta in the head, killing him instantly, his body ragdolling to the floor. A few more bullets caught Purple in the leg, bring his health down to 47. Purple quickly scampered to safety, returning fire into the smoke.

"I think it's safe to say that we have been pooped on," said Magenta, defeat ringing in his voice. "Yep, pooped on, set on fire, thrown off a cliff, stomped on, and set on fire again." The sound of Magenta bashing his keyboard was heard in the background.

"Well, Magenta is at it again." declared Yellow, leaning back in his chair. "I mean, how do they get Negev's on the fifth round?! Is that even possible?!" Purple jumped behind the corner, safe from the barrage of bullets that seemingly didn't end.

"One CT Spawn," Purple uttered under his breath. "Bomb is down on _Cross_ , in the smoke."

"I'm at _Cat_ ," Red said, taking out a spherical grenade, a yellow stripe running across the middle.

"Kobe!" He flung the grenade down into the smoke, the handheld explosive rolling into CT Spawn. It exploded, kicking up dirt and spitting out sharp bits of shrapnel. The grenade found a target, a muffled grunt emanating from behind the smoke. The kill feed instantly reacted, the player's name popping up on the screen. "Score!" Red shouted into his mike.

"Hey, I lit him before!" Green reminded, "Don't take all the credit."

"Okay guys," Magenta said, returning to his chair. "We might be able to still clutch this round. We just need to-"

 _BANG! BANG! BANG!_

Purple crumpled to the floor, three shots from a SCAR-20 nailing him directly in the face.

"Okay, nevermind," Magenta remarked, facepalming.

"Auto-snipers? Seriously?" Purple asked, exasperated. "This is bull! That guy _must_ be using aim-assist or something! I mean, three headshots? And, how the heck did he get in _Pit_ that fast?!"

Red reacted instinctively, scoping his AWP on the other end of _Long_ , where _Pit_ was. He saw him, staring at Red like a disorientated flamingo. With a quick flick of the wrist and a click of the mouse, the CT was already dead, falling back inside the pit." Nice shot! Wait, I hear footsteps, I think they're comi-"

"Shut up! He's trying to listen," interrupted Green. Two CT's were making their way up the _Ramp_ to A Site, both carrying AWP's, unaware that Red was anticipating their arrival. As they reached _Goose,_ Red already had his Deagle drawn.

 _Tap, tap._ Two headshots. Two kills. Their bodies fell to the floor, just like the rest. Everybody started shouting at once.

"Holy Jesus!"

"How...Are you Juan Deag?!"

"That was incredible!"

"You can still clutch the round!"

Red ran down ramp, retrieving the bomb. He jumped back on A Site, laying the bomb down on the floor.

"Fake the plant!" yelled Magenta. Red pretended to activate the bomb, punching in random keys into the numberpad. His heart was racing, adrenaline pumping through his veins, almost as if the situation was real, and his life was on the line. "He's at _Cat!_ " Red crouched low, hiding behind the box. ' _You better not screw this up,_ ' he thought, planning every next move accordingly.

Red peeked behind the box, 40 seconds left on the clock. Then he saw it. The opposing AWPer had the barrel of his rifle pointed directly at his forehead, his finger pressuring the trigger, not yet firing. How did he know he was going to peek? His peek costed them the round. It would stop right there, ending with a bullet in his head and his team losing the round, and the whole process would start over again, an unending loop of losses.

Yet, Red still had one stunt to pull. He pulled out his AWP from behind him, but didn't plan to shoot the enemy. The other AWPer, suspecting that Red would retaliated, pulled the trigger, the bullet soaring from the barrel, its trajectory ending at Red's head. At the very same moment, Red threw his AWP in the air, the sleek engraving of a dragon shielding his face, defending its master in the moment of peril. The bullet challenged the dragon to a battle, but the dragon emerged victorious. It ricocheted off the rifle's glossy armor, not even leaving a scratch. The impact sent the AWP flying off to the side, away from the reach of Red.

Not wasting any time, Red spun out his Deagle, the shiny metal sparkling in the sunlight like the reflection of a lake. He aimed his crosshairs at the enemy AWPer, the intersection landing on his skull. Red tapped on his mouse, proportional to an ingame pull of the trigger. The round fired, the bullet flying towards the crosshairs, implanting itself into the AWPer, automatically killing him. All that had happened in literally the span of 3 seconds, yet the round was won.

"THE NAME'S KENNY SCHRUB!"

 **Ace! The clutch was real…**


End file.
